


Par Force De Chiens

by Cazio



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Spells & Enchantments, Thorki - Freeform, Thunderfrost - Freeform, dubcon, okay so there is some plot, par force de chiens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU : A half-century after the events of Thor, where Loki's heritage was revealed but it never came to destroying the Bifrost or threatening Jotunheim, and the thunderer was never banished to Midgard. Thor has become king and Odin has passed.</p><p>Thor has been gone for weeks, and Loki is growing impatient. When the mighty king finally arrives with his slain stag, he does not realize that his brother has been growing restless in his stead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Par Force De Chiens

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all of the love (and tears). :)

The hunt had been successful. Loki watched the return of the king, flanked by his companions and a pack of dogs that whined and barked loud enough for the trickster to hear from his perch above the garden courtyards. A noble hart had been slain, its powerful body draped across the back of the Odinson’s mount as a crowd began to gather. The Aesir were always eager to hear the tales his brother spun, and Loki did not even need to be watching to tell that half of them were false. Even those who listened knew that the Odinson was exaggerating, yet they continued to gawk, gasp and cheer at his every twist and motion. The animal was apparently proof enough that his words were true..

He closed his book with a dusty thud and ran his fingers along the spine just once before looking out again. He had been awaiting his brother’s return, though he would admit that to no one. Not even himself, in most cases. A sigh escaped his lips and an icy chill settled in his stomach as he stood, black leather giving a dusky glow in the evening light. This hunt had taken much longer than a day, as was the usual. Thor had departed weeks ago to gather with governors of the land, socializing and reacquainting himself with his uppermost subjects in a subdued reminder that he was king. Odin, who had joined in the ranks of Valhalla decades ago, had never partaken in such gatherings, much less instilled them on royal land. The forests beyond the walls were ripe with game because of it, and it appeared that Thor was intent on depleting its reserves for mere sport.

Dozens of boars, stags, wolves, and other monstrous beasts lined the walls as he walked swiftly through the corridors, all creatures that had not been there for than a few years. It had been over half a century since Thor had taken over the kingdom, and he had changed in his time as king; though Loki could not accurately say it was for the better. The thunderer carried himself with prideful bitterness, as often overtook men in power. Thor was no longer the war-lusting boy he had been when first coronated, though his appearance had not changed in the slightest. Both Jotun and Aesir would have many millennia before they began to age at all, and perhaps the trickster would have longer than that, given his race. But the crown would forever be lost from him, as he had known since the day Odin’s little secret had been spilled.

The trickster took to the shadows as the men returned, reeking of blood, horses, sweat and dogs. The hart was lifted for all to see, the massive prongs atop its head fanning out in wide branches that captured even Loki’s eye. He scoffed at the thought of slaying such a beautiful creature for sport. Even in death the stag was graceful, thick muscle rippled beneath its blood-spattered pelt as it was jostled by the crowd. Dark black eyes seemed to still be alive despite the deep slice at its heart where Thor’s sword had entered it.  The trickster’s lip curled. He was growing impatient.

The unmaking of the beast was performed for all to see, and the Jotun prince’s gut churned at the barbaric way his brother flung meat to the dogs as it was cut fresh from their prey, rewarding the canines for their murderous work. All for sport, a game played by those who had nothing better to do than waste good animals. He did notice a long slice in his brother’s velvet gold-gilded sleeve and smirked at the image of the stag cutting him with its curved prongs. Thor had no place battling such creatures who, even in their dying moments, could outdo him in a fight. He thought to use his magic to reanimate the animal, to blink its eyes and have it stare at Asgard’s king with a vow of vengeance, but kept still. He would have plenty of time for magic and trickery later.

And so the animal was cleaned and gutted in a ceremony of blood and laughter, and Loki watched it all with dark eyes, waiting for the moment his brother returned to his chambers.

* * *

 

His footsteps were silent against the stone of Thor’s bedroom and he meant them to be so. His brother would not be expecting him, as he never did. It was only by accident that he ever found himself walking past the king’s chambers, though recently the mistake had been happening quite often. Thor was staring out his window, helm discarded on the floor and lionish mane disheveled around his neck and shoulders as he sat at his oaken desk. Loki’s eyes flickered. He had waited weeks for his brother’s return, but he needed to proceed slowly, with careful action as he had countless times before.

“Brother,” he greeted in a low timbre.

Thor lifted his head, but did not turn. “Loki. What bring the Jotun prince to my presence?” The king’s voice was twinged with the influence of mead.

Loki snarled at the insult, but did not make a sound to express his anger, instead his voice was smooth and collected. “I have come to offer congratulations for your excellent hunt.” Feeding Thor’s immense pride was always an easy way to distract him.

“Take your congratulations elsewhere, then. I am finished with celebration.” The thunderer turned, a sea-blue eye peeking through the strands of blond. Loki’s lips parted, delicately running his tongue along the backside of his teeth.

“I wish to sleep.” Thor turned back to the window. “Leave me.”

A slight grin rested on the trickster’s lips. Exhaustion would make this so much easier for him. He moved behind his brother and leaned to his ear. “Ah, yes, but you have not told me of your successes, my king,” the word was poison in his mouth, but he forced himself to say it.

Thor growled and keened away from him. Loki chuckled and brought his hands to rest atop his brother’s shoulders. The thunderer stood abruptly and turned to him with a snarl. Loki raised his hands in mock submission, a devious smile playing on his lips.

“Leave me, Jotun,” the king commanded. Loki was never one to listen to commands and moved closer.

“Do not play these games, Thor,” he brought his hand to trace his brother’s jaw. The Aesir closed his eyes, his snarl melting away in an instant. The trickster smiled. His plan had worked, as it always would. “Tell me, did you long for me on your escapade?” he murmured, his words like smooth velvet.

Thor looked hesitant. Loki’s touch deepened at Thor’s cheek, brow furrowing slightly in concentration. The thunderer nuzzled into his hand, blue eyes softening. “Each night I dreamed of you, as I always will when you are not beside me.” The low rumble of the king’s voice sent a shiver down the trickster’s spine. Words of endearment, such things had not been—he was suddenly thrown back against the stone, raven hair providing little cushion as he head cracked into smooth rock. Thor pressed against him possessively, and Loki’s nerves began to spark slowly. They would take time to reacquaint with Thor’s power, time he did not think he would receive.

He scarcely had time to breathe before their lips crushed together with bruising force, and he could feel that his brother had been too long without the company of another. The thought sent ripples through his bloodstream and his eyes closed against the kiss until the thunderer finally pulled away.

“You should have gone with me,” Thor hissed low against his neck, trailing burning kisses down his throat. Loki gritted his teeth, but his body was equally as eager as his brothers, even if his mind was not.

“I would have, but you refused me,” he returned icily.

Thor nipped at his collarbone and he contained a noise of satisfaction. Even now he would not give him brother any sounds to remember. Though he knew that  wall would soon crumble under the rough touch that he craved so much.

“I would never refuse you,” the thunderer replied huskily. Always so quick to be aroused. An unexpected lump formed in Loki’s throat, but he forced himself to swallow it down as Thor’s lips dragged across his milky skin. “You never asked.”

So now he remembered. “I must ask to be in your company?” Loki replied, short of breath as Thor’s wet tongue lapped at the hollow of his throat. He cursed himself for being so easily unwound.  The king delivered a scolding bite, steaming breath washing across Loki’s chest as he gasped in pleasure pain. His hands immediately tangled in his brother’s blond locks, and the pressure began to cut his skin as Thor bit harder.

“ _Thor!”_ he hissed, digging his nails into the Aesir’s scalp. He hated to admit that it brought him more satisfaction to feel the sharp pain. Thor released him and he took a shuddering breath, then his brother’s tongue was swiping across his reddened skin and filling him with sweet pleasure. For a barbarian, Thor knew exactly how to unravel him. It had taken practice, but now the king knew every spot that made him dizzy with lust. But Loki knew the points on his brother as well.

With a flick of his wrist, Thor’s armor began to slide off, metal clanging against stone like a slow reveal of a golden statue. The Odinson was a sight to behold when he was finally exposed, rippling muscle flexed in every limb and his prideful stance made it clear that he knew of his intoxicating body. Loki’s eyes took in the sight, leaving his armor on just to anger his brother. The buckles and straps that encased him were often ripped apart in their trysts when Thor became frustrated.

“You are hurt,” Loki mused, eyes flicking to the long slash at his brother’s arm and the bruising where the hart’s antlers had been stopped by the chest plate that now lay at Thor’s feet. Blood dribbled from the wound in his arm, and Thor kept still as the trickster approached, keeping eye contact as though approaching a lion.

His hands gently gripped the hard muscle of Thor’s bicep, and his skin tingled at the fell of strength therein. With care his mouth pressed at the base of the thin cut, and his tongue flicked across it. The thunderer grunted, but it was not a sound of pain. Loki then ran his tongue along the length of the wound,and behind it there was nothing but smooth, tanned flesh.  Thor pulled his arm away and the trickster lifted a brow.

“I do not need your tricks, brother,” the thunderer grumbled, but he could see softness in his brother’s eyes.

“Of course,” he replied with a lazy roll of his eyes. He stepped forward, pressing himself against his brother’s broad chest and tracing his collarbone with delicate fingers. “No tricks,” smiled, but his gut churned with something he quickly turned into annoyance.  A hand grazed across flesh as it descended past his brother’s chiseled abdominals and between his hips. He grasped his brother’s member and gave a light squeeze that sent a visible jerk through the king of Asgard, the Odinson.

The gesture was clear, Loki did not want words, he wanted his brother’s rough action, for the organ in his hands to be plunged deep inside of him. Words were not his brother’s strong suit anyhow. Thor’s eyes blazed with desire as the trickster pumped once, pleased to feel his brother swell by his hand. He had just started his second stroke when the blaze turned to an inferno and he tensed in preparation. Thor lunged, claiming his mouth forcefully but oh so pleasantly, and wrapping both arms around him in a vice-like hold. His fingers curled tighter and his brother snarled against his lips, nipping and sending a wave of lust through him at the sensation.

“Rid yourself of this armor,” Thor demanded, tugging roughly at Loki’s shoulder pad before tangling his fingers into the trickster’s inky locks. Loki smiled and began trailing gentle kisses against Thor’s jaw. The king trembled at his light touch, but saw that he had not answered. “Now,” Thor growled again. Loki sucked at the groove between jaw and neck and his brother shivered despite his attempt to appear in control.

“Plead then, if you wish me to remove it,” the trickster murmured against smooth skin. He could smell the sweat from the hunt. “Or remove it yourself, as you remove the meat from your kills,” he purred, slippery but seductive. Thor suddenly reached down and cupped his member, and he could not help but grunt at the friction.

“ _Remove it_ ,” Thor tried again. Loki began to lick at his brother’s throat with the knowledge that it unwound him like nothing else. He could feel his own need spiking within, but he would not give in to his brother, especially not now. The king seemed to sense this and lowered both arms to loop around Loki’s waist before pulling them roughly together. He could feel his brother’s erection even through his leather, and he had to admit that it was rousing to him as well. With a sly smirk he waved his fingers and his shoulder pads fell to the ground, but nothing else.

The Jotun lifted his head slightly and pressed their lips together, but Thor would have none of that. His elder brother pressed him against the wall once more and thrust, grunting with pleasure as he did so. Loki clenched his jaw at the heat pooling below his hips,  and Thor  began to kiss hungrily at his shoulders as though it would make the fabric fall away. The trickster stayed silent.

“ _Please,_ ” Thor rumbled with intimidation. That was as close as the king would get to pleading, for now anyway. With a sigh the Jotun’s armor fell away, revealing his pale lithe form and the sinewy muscle underneath. Thor’s lips parted, eyes growing dusky with need. Loki gave a sly smile against his brother, looping his slender arms around the Aesir’s neck and tugging almost playfully at his golden mane.

“Entertain me, God of Thunder,” he leaned close, his hot breaths washing over his brother’s ear. “If you wish to claim another prize.” Normally Loki would never think to degrade himself as a “prize,” but he knew his brother well.  Before the king could ensnare him, the trickster stepped away, basking in the orange hues of the evening light as he made his way to Thor’s bed. The next part would be easy. With a soft, seductive moan he sprawled onto the mattress, green eyes afire with satisfaction as he eyed his brother’s member and saw that he was fully aroused by the noise.

Loki arched his back and spread his legs wide. Foreplay had never been of much use to him, though he did enjoy it. Thor was far too impatient for such things. Normally, at least. The lump threatened to form in his throat again, so instead he bucked his hips with an overly dramatic groan of desperation that was not entirely faked.

Thor could not help himself. He was at the bedside in a heartbeat, and his calloused hands were rubbing everywhere, sending shockwaves through the Jotun’s nerves and causing Loki to pant slightly. Thor thumbed across his pec and the trickster moaned at the crack of pleasure, bucking again as his manhood began to ache with need. His brother leaned over him, tongue flicking across his skin between passionate kisses and nibbles, and Loki arched ever so slightly, arms above his head and curling into the thick sheets. Thor took too much pleasure in seeing him act like a whore, but it brought the pleasure faster so he did what he could.

Teeth closed around his hardened nipple and Loki stifled a cry, gritting his teeth and emitting a low huff instead. Suddenly a finger entered him and his eyes widened in succulent, delicious pleasure. Slight pain ran through him, but he enjoyed it and buried his face into his arm as Thor’s lips covered his neck, hitting his most sensitive spots.

“Thor...” Loki breathed, rolling his hips to bring the finger deeper with him. His brother only growled in response, then another finger slid inside, stretching him more. He moaned loudly despite himself, and his hands could no longer stay above him and they laced into Thor’s hair. The king murmured incoherently into his chest and began to circle against the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. Loki groaned at the sensation, awash with heat and pleasure though his skin remained cool, as it always did.

His member lay neglected against his stomach and he bucked to try and gain friction from Thor’s torso above him. It worked, sending tides of need through him, but it was not nearly what he wanted. He scooted towards the edge of the bed where his brother stood, and gasped at the sensation of those fingers burying deeper within him.

“Take me,” he panted, becoming blind with need, “Brother, _please_ ,” Oh yes, he was not afraid to beg for his pleasure. Thor groaned against his chest and bit into his skin. Loki did not want that, he wanted to be filled. _Now._ He lowered a hand to run along the muscle of Thor’s back until it slipped from the Aesir to grasp his own member. He began to stroke quickly, making sure to moan and pant with apparent orgasmic pleasure, which was not too far off from the truth.  He knew his brother hated when he took to pleasuring himself.

The Aesir extracted his fingers from his entrance and Loki canted in yearning, pre-come beginning to leak from his member and dribble onto his belly as he stroked. A hand tore his wrist away and Loki’s vision fogged in desperate lust. He needed this, he wanted his brother inside him, immediately. He elicited a whimper, a sound that disgusted him, but it was necessary. “My king, claim me,” he whined, inwardly rolling his eyes at his own words. But he was not called the silvertongue for nothing and Thor finally leaned away to spit on his hands, coating his member as the trickster watched with eyes filled with desire.

Thor rubbed the base of his entrance and Loki moaned loudly at the friction, bucking closer and begging for his brother to enter him.  He had not been stretched nearly enough – and he rather preferred it that way. The Aesir slid inside him and he groaned from the pleasure pain that rattled him to the core. His member began to trickle with greater intensity and Loki lifted a hand to stroke in time, but Thor swatted it away as he began his slow rhythm. Loki did all he could to thrust in time with his brother, panting and gasping at the crippling pleasure that shot through him with every rut. He had nothing to grasp but sheets and it made him tremble despite himself as the thunderer proved that he possessed the strength of lighting.

The pace quickened and Loki could not longer keep up, “Stroke me, Thor,” he panted breathlessly, fumbling for his member as Thor’s length filled him again and again. As his brother slid deeper he touched a spot far within the trickster and Loki cried out in pure satisfaction, arcing completely off the mattress. Thor caught his arm under his raised hips and yanked him closer with a deep goan. Loki cried out again as a crack for pleasure ran through him once more, the new angle giving Thor a much easier time finding his innermost spots of pleasure.The thunderer’s member was throbbing within him, and the Jotun knew that release was near for the both of them.

Thor finally comprehended his plea, and grasped his manhood and began to pump vigorously. The sound that escaped Loki’s throat was one of exquisite pleasure and he began to buck until each thrust was filling him with Thor's entire length. Thor moaned and the sound was enough to send Loki over the edge. His seed spurted onto his belly and chest as his brother’s continued strokes emptied him completely and his entire body tingled with sweet satisfaction. He continued to pant, eyes half-lidded as the Aesir released his member to lie limp against his painted stomach. Thor gripped his pelvis to continue pounding into him while he lay boneless from his orgasm.  After a few more thrusts the thunder’s seed gushed warmly within him and Loki rolled his hips to help empty the Aesir, still breathing shallowly and aching with fulfillment.

Finally, his brother extracted himself and the Jotun sighed in contentment, keeping his legs spread wide so that none of the pleasure would leave him by way of moving.

Thor collapsed onto the mattress and moved to press against him. Loki lay motionless, except for the deep breaths that caved his chest. The musky scent of their coupling hung in the air and the prince closed his emerald eyes to absorb it. Lips brushed his ear and the trickster groaned, turning his head away. Thor’s hand came to his jaw and pulled him over to meet his lips in a kiss, one that Loki returned sleepily. He could not tire yet, but his energy was leaving him more quickly now that he was recovering from his delicious orgasm. The thunderer nuzzled him affectionately, and Loki’s lips murmured against his brother’s cheek.

“I love you, Loki,” Thor rumbled in his ear.

The trickster paused momentarily and his heart wrenched. A sick feeling settled in his stomach and he turned away once more. Not now.

“Clothe yourself,” he hissed. Thor chuckled as though the trickster’s words were in jest and nibbled at the base of his neck. Loki shouldered him off and sat up, though every muscle protested. Their coupling was over.

His brother gazed up at him with soft blue eyes, with strands of spun gold falling over them, mussed from their coupling. Loki looked at him fondly for a moment, even going so far as tracing a finger gently down the Aesir’s jaw. Then came a flick of his wrist and he cleaned the both of them, his magic pulling at his energy reserves more than it had been in the previous moments. His skin felt suddenly barren, as though he had also cleaned away the pleasure there. With a snap of his fingers Thor was wearing a sleeping tunic and a pair of loose trousers and Loki was back in his armor. He was beginning to get a headache. His brother lifted his head and nuzzled into Loki’s hip, but the Jotun stood, smoothing his hair and striding to the door.

Finally, he let his spell drop.

Thor’s eyes changed from gentle to fierce with a blink, pupils pricking to slits.

“Thor,” Loki smiled, his insides cold as ice. Never before had he felt so....guilty. It was a spell he had perfected many years ago, first using it when the thunderer was too drunk to stand properly. Over time he had been able to use it for longer and longer trysts, building the pleasure within them and slowly constructing the brother he ached for during cold winters when he near froze alone in his bed, when he was weakened and soft. Now he could call his brother to this stupor with the touch of the king’s face, as he had done when he first entered. Sometimes Thor almost broke free himself, but he never had. Part of him had once believed it was because his brother truly did love him, but that hope was stripped bare and sliced to bits whenever his spell fell away, as it did now.

“I said to leave me,” Thor growled.

Loki lifted his chin, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers on his vambraces.  “Do you love me, Thor?” he asked with a devious smile that brought a sadness to his heart. Damn, he _was_ growing soft.

“You are a Jotun, there is nothing about you that I love except for your appearance as an Aesir.” The words were harsh, as all was with the thunderer.

“Hmm,” Loki replied, his smile twitching slightly. “Are you sure?”

“You are a worthless creature that should not even have the title as prince. I only keep your status because it was my mother’s dying wish,” the king seethed and every word clawed at him from the inside out. But he was used to this and masked it from his brother.

“Perhaps she knew I was more intelligent than my brother,” he returned with a level tone.

“You were not her son, nor are you my brother,” Thor snarled, his eyes dark with hatred now, not desire. The king crossed the room, grabbing him by the throat where his kisses and bites still kept his skin pink. Loki sputtered for air as his brother leaned in. “You are the bastard, and I will see to it that you die a bastard, with no bastard children and no lowly wench to call your wife.”

The words bit into him, but Loki only sighed, though his closed windpipe turned it into a fit of coughing. Thor released him and he stumbled back before clearing his throat and rising with poise. Little did his brother know that his seed was still inside the trickster, untouched by his cleaning spells just for spite. And for comfort, though he would never dare to voice that. “What will you do with me, O king?” he hissed tartly in reply.

“If I hear that you so much as hold eyes with a woman, I will gut you with the tines of my next kill,” Thor’s breath was hot against his skin with livid rage, not affection.

“Then I suggest you take your huntsmen and be off,” Loki sneered.

The slap came unexpectedly, reddening his cheek and - because he was unprepared- left it stinging with sharp pain. He did not dare bring up a hand to touch it.

“I will have no more of your tongue, bastard son.”

Loki swallowed, and without a word he left Thor’s chambers with his head held high.

As he walked through the corridors and returned to his bedroom with almost graceful composure, he looked up to see a new head mounted right above his door. A chestnut hart with antlers sprawling from its proud head, watching over the halls with lifeless black eyes, and the smell of the hunt lingering even now. And when he entered his room and locked the door he finally brought a hand to massage his cheek, but found that he wiped a tear away instead.


End file.
